Rubberist TV Bondage Fantasy

It had seemed a good idea at the time.... Standing before the display of cut-rate rubber fashions, hand in hand with his girlfriend, he'd been surprised when she'd said "Let's get two sets, one for me and one for you!"

"C'mon..." she continued as he hesitated. She was playing with a huge black dildo, idly stroking the shining black mass in it's bright plastic packaging. She reached up to touch his cheek, eye's huge and locked on his, her hand fragrant in the tight leather gloves she was never seen without in public, "We'll be a beautiful pair."

Could that be possible, he wondered as he looked at the photos of the nubile young models. The latex looked so bright stretched across the nimble young bodies gleaming in the studio lights. Could I look like that?

He stood there trying to imagine the scene: the two of them entwined upon the couch, both enrapt in a glossy second skin... and was startled out of his reverie by the sudden departure of his girlfriend towards the check-out; her hands filled with the small cardboard boxes packed with rubber.

He who hesitates... he thought ruefully as he hastened to catch up with her.

Back in the car, parked, the idling engine a whisper beneath the turmoil of his thoughts, he'd looked at the purchases bagged in black plastic and dumped on the backseat. He wanted to protest the expense, but she forestalled any argument with a gloved palm sealed across his lips. The message was clear: No words.... Their old game of silence and submission was afoot; the rules were defined, trust implicit. He slipped the clutch and headed home.

Once there, he busied himself setting the stage for their evening's entertainments while his girlfriend glided away towards the bedroom. Within an hour the living room was cozied against the stares of outside eyes by the pull of thick, heavy drapes and a dozen cheery flames were dancing atop the wicks of candles set all around. Warmed by the candlelight and the soft play of melody from the stereo, he'd just poured himself a glass of wine and gotten his feet up on the leathered sofa when a sound not unlike the rustle of autumn leaves brushed by a breeze announced the return of his mate from her preparations.

Wordlessly she stood before him, a gleaming black silhouette redolent with the fragrance of latex and polish. He noted the imprint of lips stamped into the press of the half-mask covering her mouth, cheeks and jaw. The straps were cinched tightly around her head, her hair pulled back and tied into a thick auburn ponytail which fell away behind her back.

Legs spread in a hip-shot pose and standing tip toe in a pair of agressive five-inch heels, she waited patiently-- armed with silence and confident in the sexual power which surged between them-- as his gaze wandered over her body.

With a slow pirouette, agile as a dancer's, she presented herself in total for his inspection: The short hem of the rubber dress hugged the delicate curve of her shapely ass which cut outward above the tight hold of the glossy stockings stretched around her thighs. In the glow of candlelight, her bare, shaven pussy gleamed wetly in the narrow gap between the press of dress and stockings while her nipples pushed out beyond the black latex stretched across the full, rounded breasts cupped in the caress of an unyielding grip of rubber.

He felt a powerful urge to crush this svelte rubbered form against him; to drag this black rubbered angel from her lofty height above him and force her subjugation with the play of lips and fingers. He yearned to stroke, lick and suck at the rubber limbs bared before him, but the rules of the game were clear: she had initiated the dance and he was bound to follow, never lead. No words....

Nodding meekly to the command in the bright brown eyes blazing above the stretch of her black rubber mask, he accepted the gloved hand reaching out to him. She smoothed her rubbered thumb across the back of his hand and a shiver trailed up his arm and all through his body. Power arced between them like a static charge, and wordlessly he followed as she led him away towards his fate in the darkened rooms at the back of their apartment.

As she led the way down the short hallway towards their bedroom, he admired the flex and sway of his girlfriend's butt which was clearly defined beneath the wrap of the short rubber dress. As she minced along in the five-inch heels before him, her ponytail bouncing in time with each step, she led him, not towards the huge four-poster bed as he'd expected but into the ensuite bathroom.

The bright red tiles were still slicked with the moisture deposited in the course of his mate's recent shower and, with a sharp slap to his butt, she bade him step into the shower himself. Above the shower head, he noticed steel manacles suspended from a short chain attached to the wall by a stout iron ring. He felt his girlfriend move into the shower stall behind him and the light touch of her rubber sheathed fingers before she deftly stripped him of his robe.

With a firm grip on his wrists she locked him into the manacles before she set the water pouring over him in a corse spray. With his hands strung up overhead, he closed his eyes against the rush of water which was jetting full into his face... so it came as a complete surprise when he felt the blunt plug of a hard-rubbered ball gag pushed deep into his mouth. Within moments a sharp crackling above and behind his head augured the arrival of the next stage of his enbondagement.

Blinded by the spray of the shower into his eyes, he was surprised to feel the tight grip of some sort of hood being tugged over his head. He recognized the smell of latex, even as the slick-smooth wrap of the hood tightened over the planes of his neck, cheek, jaw and forehead with the fastening of a zip at the back. The drumming of the water against the thin membrane of the hood increased the rushing sound of the shower tenfold, damping his hearing to the point of deafness, even as he realized that despite the fact that the hood was fitted with some kind of lenses, he still couldn't see a damn thing because they were hopelessly fogged by the humidity.

Blinded, gagged and deafened, with his arms strung up overhead, he stood beneath the relentless course of the water and wondered what could possibly be next. His silent queries were answered as he felt his captor's rubber slick hands working a spreader bar into place at the junction between his thighs and knees. Mmmphing a protest into the gag, he tried budging the restraints now locked around his legs, but to no avail. A fine predicament this was turning into, he thought, as the water suddenly ceased to flow from the shower head.

As he stood there dripping, still blinded by the fog before his eyes, he thought could here his girlfriend chuckling from behind the tight press of the half-mask she was wearing over her mouth. Then he felt some cool, wet, slimy substance being smoothed all around his crotch. If he'd been free to do so he'd have jumped out of the shower right then because, even if he didn't recognize the feel of the stuff, the scent being filtered into his nose via the airholes in the hood was unmistakably that of his shaving gel! Sure enough, the very next thing he felt-- as he froze solid against all protest-- was the rasp of his razor against his balls. It didn't take long: even before he might have drip-dried hanging there in the restraints, she'd deftly shaved all the hair from his body from tip to toe.

When she was done, the fog had cleared enough from the lenses in the hood that he could see her smiling beneath the mask and a bright gleam enliven her eyes. Reaching down she cupped his balls and he had to admit that the feel of those smoothly gloved fingers playing with his denuded balls was incredibly erotic. But all hope for a quick climax were dashed when, with one last squeeze for his balls, she abruptly exited the shower stall, leaving him to wonder what villainy might follow.

She returned shortly and dumped a heap of rubber garments onto the tiles. She hadn't been kidding when she said that she wanted them both to be dressed the same way. With his skin still damp and slick with moisturizer from the shaving gel, the rubber garments she'd bought for him flowed easily over his hairless skin.

Unlocking each limb from its restraint just long enough to pull-on the appropriate piece of fetish-wear, it was not long before the tanned skin of his arms and legs was completely sheathed in silk-soft, slicked-smooth tubes of black, glistening latex. The panties she drew up over his cock and ass had the effect of gaffing his balls and member tightly against his belly, while a bit of padding (seemingly the shoulder pads from one of her blouses) softened the tell-tale bulge, in effect hiding his manhood behind a woman's mound. His feminization was completed with the insertion of mammoth silicon breast forms into the cups of the long-line rubber bra she'd strapped over his chest and shoulders. These tits were so huge that, try as he might, he couldn't see his feet!

After locking a high, posturizing collar around around his throat, his captor finally unlocked the restraints and led him from the shower stall. Immediately, he looked towards the mirror, eager to see what this labour had wrought. He couldn't believe his eyes! A man had entered this chamber and a towering facsimile of womanhood had emerged. Even if the gag depressing his tongue didn't make speech impossible, he would still have been dumbfounded by the vision of femininity which stared back at him from the floor-to-ceiling mirror outside the shower stall.

The hood which had been fastened over his head was really some kind of female mask complete with painted make-up and brightly rouged lips. The grip of the bra and panties compressed his waist, and the swell of his hips and breasts shaped his torso into a dramatic hour-glass figure. The sensuously feminine accoutrements of rubbered stockings and gloves completed the illusion.

Nor was this dream confined to a reflection in the mirror: The feel of the rubber was a song against his skin-- its silky-smoothness like a summer breeze trapped around him. A soft caress so completely unfamiliar to his male-mindedness, it further alienated his sense of manhood and affirmed the reality in the mirror! Had he not experienced the process of feminization himself, he would never have believed that the figure before him was not in reality a rubbered goddess, a taller twin to the woman smiling up into the eyes of the reflection beside her.

"Follow me," commanded this feminizing Dr. Frankenstein, her words muffled by the rubber masking her mouth. "I have some hair for you. And then..."

She was stroking the slick, fulsome swell of his rubber-skinned ass; her eyes a bright blaze of victory above the wicked smile pressing through the black rubber wrapped around her face, "...And then I want to go down on my new girlfriend!"

And tugging on the chain affixed to his collar she pulled her "new girlfriend" towards the bed. It seemed his night of sensual discoveries had just begun and he had to admit he had no protest....

No words.

 

04.04.07